


Whatever Works

by miles_to_go_before_i_sleep



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miles_to_go_before_i_sleep/pseuds/miles_to_go_before_i_sleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thought he was in love with Irene Adler, until he met John.</p><p>A high school AU where Sherlock fell in love with John at first sight, and texts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Works

\--To confess, or not to confess, that is the question.

Sherlock thought he’s in love with Irene Adler. 

He saw her everyday. He enjoyed talking to her as much as feeling her casual but soft, reassuring touches. He admired her mischievous and triumphant smiles.

He often texted to her but he would discard the messages before he sent any of them to her. Sometimes he was sick with worry. What if she won’t love him back? What if she thinks that he is too young, too impulsive, too naïve? He had never been in love, yet his presumable love on her was so fierce and strong he could feel a fire lit up in his heart when he thought about her. 

At first, he was baffled, confused and shocked.

Baffled by his unintentional blushes whenever he saw her. Confused by the intensified heart beats when she touched him. Shocked at his secret desires to kiss her whenever she smiled to him, or to the class.

Irene Adler was the only English teacher that seemed intelligent and likable to him. The others were only a bunch of imbeciles.

Sherlock studied in the sixth form at Harrow School. Thanks to Mycroft, that irritating bastard, who insisted that his little brother should be transferred to a tasteful, independent boarding school instead of an obscure state school so he doesn’t need to keep an eye on Sherlock while working as the British government.

But that’s where he met Irene Adler which made Sherlock felt almost grateful for agreeing to study in Harrow. 

Now, should he confess to her? Surely his confession would be listened attentively and patiently but would she accept it? 

Sherlock knew that the gap between their ages wouldn’t a problem. His father was 20 years older than his mother. 

Sex or gender also wouldn’t an impediment to their journey of love. Look at Mycroft and his ridiculous boyfriend. Husband. Whatever. They just got their civil partnership last month. Their wedding was atrocious and the pair of lovebirds was completely unaware of Sherlock’s gloomy face as they started kissing in front of him and practically half of the Scotland Yard. That was the most disgusting scene that Sherlock had ever seen. Not even the most unreasonable tv drama could make him feel that disgusted. 

Anyways Sherlock started to like his brother-in-law bit by bit as Sherlock discovered his occupation- detective inspector in the Scotland Yard. Though Lestrade, his brother-in-law is still a moron to fall in love with his impossible brother, Sherlock was granted access to most of the crime scenes where Lestrade was in charge of so he had little to complain about his brother’s marriage.

Back to the point: to confess, or not to confess?

And here comes Irene Adler. Sherlock thought it must be his illusion for he had never seen her so radiant and proud. She’s wearing white today, which is unusual for her but her regular pair of high heels remains unchanged.

“Congratulate me, Sherlock. I’m going to be married in next month,”

His jaws dropped. His brains malfunctioned. His heart skipped a beat. So Irene Adler had a boyfriend instead of the ring of female lovers Sherlock had deduced before. So she’s going to marry a lawyer whose name is Norton.

This was ridiculous. Why did he love her? Why was he acting so cowardly like the normal idiots? Mycroft was already the best example set as Sherlock was sure about his continuous drop in IQ and constant increase in weight since his civil partnership with Lestrade.

“Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.”

The quote from Romeo and Juliet popped up in Sherlock and he could still remember Irene’s mocking tone when she read the line to the whole class but it was hard to stop his feverish love for her. It was so hard that he had to clench his jaws and grit his teeth to keep himself from confessing to her now.

Keep calm and breathe and say something witty enough to cover up your embarrassment- That’s the last thought he had in his mind before he felt lost in Irene’s plans on her wedding, asking for Sherlock’s advice on whether her bridal dress should be vintage in style or not as if he’s the best wedding planner.

The harsh reality clashed on him and he couldn’t stay focus in class until the end of the term. It was the first time he longed to go home. To stay with Mycroft and keep himself distracted by his brother-in-law’s tedious cases.

***

It was winter. That meant Christmas and Sherlock had to choose between interrupting Mycroft and Lestrade’s couply evening with large amounts of Christmas puddings and spending a night in the cold.

He seriously didn’t want to see any couple in front of him because he was recently indirectly rejected and he felt so stupid about it. He never liked anyone. Nor loved. He thought emotions were unnecessary and people were boring.

Now he had changed but Irene refused giving him the chance to taste her love. 

Staring at the falling snowflakes and ridiculous reindeers on windows made the night more unbearable. 

Finally a bar came in sight so he decisively stepped into it. The bar was boisterous and was crowded with already drunk idiots. He wanted to step back but there were some vacancies in the bar. He could hide himself from the world for one night. He deliberately took a seat where both sides are empty. Time was passing relentlessly in the bar and Sherlock felt he was lost in his train of thoughts until- A man tapped on his shoulder. Actually that’s a boy of his age, with sandy hair and a hideous sweater on him. 

Sherlock simply nodded at him, not knowing what to do. The stranger took that as a yes and sat next to him. 

***

Sherlock sipped his beer from time to time and strangely the world only became clearer to him. He could hear almost every conversation around him and the music in the bar- is the band called One Direction? Whatever.

The stranger beside him kept receiving calls. He answered some calls and he ignored the others. 

At last Sherlock felt the urge to speak to someone so he commented on the stranger’s girlfriend. 

“Manchester.”

“Excuse me?”

The stranger’s look was incredulous and inquisitive. Looking deep into his blue eyes Sherlock found nothing but sincerity and deep melancholy.

“Your girlfriend. She’s from Manchester, isn’t she?”

“You’re from Hampshire but you sometimes talk in a Manchester accent. Why? You wanted to please your girlfriend but apparently you’re breaking up with her and you’re torn between breaking up and being with her again. Your brother called you a several times and you don’t want to talk to him. Probably because he’s an alcoholic and he is recently divorced and you liked his ex-wife so you’re mad at him.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“People don’t usually say that.”

“What do they usually say?”

“Piss off.”

The stranger laughed heartily and Sherlock gave him a smug smile. Later when the stranger wiped of his joyful tears he introduced himself to Sherlock.

His name is John Watson.

Sherlock smiled again. 

It was the first time for Sherlock wished to get acquainted with someone. 

He talked to John about the cases he solved and John gave him short comments like “brilliant” and “fantastic” all the time. 

Irene wouldn’t do that for him. She’d give him a pat, a little flirting when she’s satisfied with his performances. Most of the times words were not needed.

But John was completely different. He gave him warm smiles to encourage him to continue. His patience was astoundingly high and he simply listened. He sometimes frowned when Sherlock said people are idiots or when Sherlock became irrationally high about the bloody homicides and kidnappings.

But most of the time John smiled because Sherlock hated to see him frowning at him. 

Sherlock soon realized that he’s addicted to John’s praises. He felt good when he saw John praising him. His praises were like cocaine to him. It must be the alcohol. 

Sherlock lost count on the beers he had so it must be the alcohol which provoked familiar feelings on him when John smiled to him again.

“Sherlock, are you all right?”

John’s tender blue eyes were filled with concern. That was another new emotion expressed from another human being towards Sherlock. No one ever concerned about him. Except Mycroft. But it was his responsibility to protect Sherlock from any physical harm, but other than that, it was none of his business. As for Irene, she simply enjoyed toying with him.

People said he’s a freak or a psychopath. Sherlock usually retorted them with proof that he’s a sociopath, not a psychopath.

And Anderson, that idiot in the same class with him kept on telling people that Sherlock Holmes is a psychopath. Idiots basically like to repeat themselves.

John wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t an idiot. Though he wasn’t a genius either, Sherlock tolerated him.

***

Sherlock kept frowning on the piece of note John left him on the other night. 

John gave him his telephone number.

Sherlock studied his handwritings on it for several hundred times, and he examined the note for several thousand times whenever he was bored at Mycroft’s house.

Sherlock could use the basement for experiments without putting him, Mycroft and Lestrade in danger.

And he could spend his time there struggling whether to call John or not without Mycroft meddling in his space. Mycroft wouldn’t enter the basement unless he found out that Sherlock was working on ways to blow the house. 

The first thing Sherlock saw on the morning after drinking too much with John was Mycroft’s irritated but slightly amused look. Lestrade later explained that Sherlock started prattling childishly to everyone as if he were a five year old kid when he arrived home. He even flinched at Mycroft when Mycroft attempted to take off his scarf from him.

But none of them told him how they knew Sherlock was in that bar nor who were with him before they dragged him onto the car.

For the first question, Sherlock assumed that Mycroft’s surveillance cameras revealed his location. As for the second one, Sherlock was not so sure. Maybe John had left him by the time Mycroft and Lestrade went to take him home. 

Sherlock secretly hoped that John was with him all the time on that night but what if John wasn’t? 

All of a sudden Sherlock felt white sparks flashing in his mind as if he was struck to the ground by a bolt of lightning. 

He had a crush on John.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

That’s why he liked John’s smiles and praises at him. That’s why he’s been idling with that simple note for days. 

And that’s why he’s been imagining John’s possible reactions on his call.

Sherlock was also struck by the realization that he had a crush on a man he knew for no more than three hours. Confusion arose as he noticed this time he fell for a man instead of a woman. Soon Sherlock gathered his thoughts, cast away his worries, and decided to text John instead of calling him. 

This may be more acceptable because John appeared to be straight. It would be less awkward for him to communicate with him and texting always allowed Sherlock to think before he responds.

Just as Sherlock heard the footsteps of his housekeeper who came to remind him of his lunch, he quickly pressed the button to send John his first message.

***

John enjoyed texting with Sherlock. Though Sherlock was sometimes incredulously aloof to other people’s feelings and often hurt his, he still liked texting to him because Sherlock would always apologize in his own ways afterwards. 

He also found it amazing that Sherlock rarely eat, or sleep and was soon determined to force Sherlock to eat something with him during lunch hours.

Not physically eating with him but eating and texting at the same time. Whatever. His pursuit of helping Sherlock to develop a healthier life style made him feel less frustrated when he saw his sister got drunk again.

Oh.

There were two things Sherlock been wrong about his life so far.

First, he was breaking up with his boyfriend, not girlfriend.

Second, he had a sister, not a brother.

He considered telling Sherlock the truth, however he was always so carried away by Sherlock’s absolutely amazing experiments and all the cases he solved within five minutes that he always forgot to tell Sherlock and there’s a secret part of him telling him not to tell Sherlock his sexuality.

He wasn’t ashamed of being gay. Never.

He was also perfectly fine with his lesbian sister until he discovered her cheating on Clara, her really nice and pretty girlfriend.

But he knew that Sherlock was straight the moment he saw him. He could tell that because he could sense it. He didn’t deduce it as he wasn’t as intelligent as Sherlock but he could feel it. 

And while Sherlock was drunk and basically a mess at the bar he heard him whispering her name. Irene.

John liked Sherlock. 

It was almost love at first sight to him. Sherlock’s brilliancy and intelligence. He was also handsome, with his dark curly hair and his gorgeous cat-like eyes. 

John envied the woman who called Irene. How could she be so brutal to hurt Sherlock like this?

Or maybe he’s wrong, Sherlock might be the one who hurt Irene’s feelings but he refused to even think about it.

He thought about calling Sherlock a few days after the night they met until the first message came. It was a simple message asking how was his day. 

At first he didn’t realize it was Sherlock. He didn’t dare to hope. But then Sherlock explained who he was and John could see the faintest hope of being friends with Sherlock.

Sherlock didn’t appear to be an affectionate guy. Indeed, he claimed to be a sociopath. John really did google the word and again he refused to believe that Sherlock’s personality is defined by those sentences. 

He may be cold and unfriendly but he wasn’t a sociopath. John knew Sherlock was far better than that. 

John managed to reply Sherlock’s message before answering to Mrs Hudson, his landlady’s call from downstairs.

\-- That’s amazing! :)

***

Days went by and Sherlock and John were still friends. They texted to each other every few seconds and they couldn’t stop texting even if they were eating, or doing experiments.

The holiday was almost over and both of them need to go back to school. Lestrade was the first to discover Sherlock’s unusual frustration and depression.

Sherlock sulked. That’s not an unusual sight to see in Mycroft’s house. 

But Sherlock desperately clinging to his phone and kept texting like it was the end of the world is surely unusual. 

Lestrade thought it was the A-levels which made Sherlock uneasy. Mycroft laughed at his worries and assured him that a Holmes always gets into Oxford or Cmabridge effortlessly. 

Mycroft also denied that Sherlock has been recently in love with someone.

“Sherlock doesn’t have friends.” He sneered.

Lestrade wanted to help Sherlock. He’s many things but a sociopath He tried to look as if he doesn’t care but Lestrade knew that Sherlock always loves Mycroft. And so does Mycroft. They just don’t need to speak that out loud.

“Sherlock, are you all right?” 

The reply was usually the same. Sherlock would snort and sometimes he scoffed at Lestrade for disturbing the silence he enjoyed to himself. This time, Sherlock looks at him. His eye were clearly full of distress, there was a moment that Lestrade could see a tinge of madness in Sherlock’s face. 

“What is it?” He demanded, hoping for Sherlock to share his troubles. 

Then Sherlock told him about John. 

Whenever Lestrade raised a question Sherlock would glare at him as if he was an imbecile. According to Sherlock’s descriptions, John was probably the most wonderful person in the world. Lestrade considered about telling Mycroft but soon decided to hide it from him. 

“Why don’t you date him?” As a matter of fact, Sherlock was an idiot when it came to love. He didn’t even realize how important John had became to him so why didn’t he date John? 

Lestrade left Sherlock in the basement to think about dating John. 

He knew Sherlock would eventually do something.

***

One week left. 

One more week and he needed to be back at school for preparing the GCE A-level exams coming in June.

John wanted to be a doctor since he was ten. His sister had been teasing him since then but he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to be a doctor more than anything in the world.

His family wasn't rich. And with a dead father and an alcoholic sister, it was nearly impossible for John to become a doctor. But John wasn't stupid. He got good grades all the time. Still, the college fees were soaring high and he needed to make a choice. His mother was probably the best person in the world. She is the only person in the family who encouraged John to follow his dream. 

His phone buzzed again. His instincts told him that it was Sherlock. John gingerly stopped packing things and stared at his phone. A text from an unknown number. Humph. 

\-- Please go downstairs. There’d be a car waiting for you, Mr. Watson.

John stared at his phone blankly, not knowing what to do. At last he decided to take a look. Maybe it’s Sherlock. Who knows what Sherlock wants to do? Maybe it’s a surprise from Sherlock.

***

“Please take a sit, Mr. Watson.”

The trip to this penthouse was comfortable, though the lady in the car refused to tell him who he was going to see and when would all this end, which left him doubtful and uneasy. 

When John arrived at the building he realized that it would be probably not Sherlock’s idea to see him at a penthouse and most importantly, it was not likely that Sherlock was the one seeing him. Normally John would like to visit a place like this but now he felt threatened by the splendid furnishings in the penthouse as if they’d bite. 

There was already a man sitting leisurely on one of the couches when John entered the room, led by the lady called Anthea. She gave him one of those polite smiles he had seen in hospitals and it was very not reassuring. 

He sat opposite to the man. It was awkward because the man was observing him curiously and John could do nothing but to stare back. 

The man was tall and his long legs reminded him of Sherlock’s. Also there was something in the man’s eyes that resembled with Sherlock’s. The man was wearing a three piece suit and there was a black umbrella beside him, which was awkward, though its style suited him. His facial expression was stern and his stare was cold. 

“You must be thinking about who I am and what I’m going to do to you. I can assure that I’d cause you no harm and you’d return home safely when all matters are settled. I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother. I believe Sherlock have mentioned my presence to you.” 

John tried to recall Sherlock’s comments on his brother; Sherlock hated it when his brother forced him to eat which John felt grateful. Sherlock also mentioned about Mycroft’s post in the government and said it was dull. 

“Yes, he did. And I’d appreciate it if you called me before we meet.” John tried not to sound so accusing.

Mycroft lifted his eyebrow but said nothing about John’s accusations. Instead he offered John a cup of tea before he started his speech. 

“I have long suspected that Sherlock has a crush on his English teacher. Unfortunately she is one of those women,” Mycroft paused for a second to search for the suitable words to express his disdain for Irene Adler. “Who lacked empathy and is often flirtatious when she is with other men. I’ve been informed that this Miss Adler is recently engaged with a lawyer and I’m sure that has broken Sherlock’s heart. However, a reliable source informed me that Sherlock is very fond of you. He even believed that Sherlock is in love with you. Mr. Watson, may I ask why would my source have the impression of Sherlock falling in love with you?”

John gulped. The ticking of the clock suddenly became audible. John wondered if it was a test, he had to answer within 60 seconds.

His heart ached when Mycroft mentioned about the English teacher but then the realization of Sherlock falling in love with him gave him a jolt. He liked Sherlock, that was unquestionable. Knowing Sherlock liked him as much as he did was… different.

A sense of betrayal slipped into John’s mind. If Sherlock really was in love with him, why didn’t he tell him? The sense of betrayal slipped away as John realized he had been acting the same thing as Sherlock did. They didn’t talk about love in their texts as if it was a taboo to discuss about romantic relationships. 

Mycroft was now studying him and John had a feeling that judging by Mycroft’s own analysis, he may know John more than he did.

Finally he cleared his throat and asked. “Why don’t you ask Sherlock?”

“Why would I? Ah, he finally deduced where have you been. I must say that he’s quite slow this time.” Mycroft chuckled which made John doubted if Sherlock’s text to Mycroft was amusing at all.

Shit. He had forgotten about checking Sherlock’s texts since he was brought here. John pulled out his phone and became hesitant. Mycroft waved his hand for him to continue and John saw Sherlock’s messages.

Damn it. There were 207 unread messages. All from Sherlock.

John scrolled to the latest one. It said “John, wherever that bastard has taken you, I’d find you. Before burn the whole place down.”

This time John giggled. He replied Sherlock before tugging his phone back to his pocket. 

Mycroft stared at him long enough for John to feel uncomfortable until he continued his speech. “I would now offer you a chance to stay with Sherlock. You’d study with Sherlock at Harrow and I’d make sure the both of you get into the same university if you wish. I’d provide you with everything you need, including your sister’s tuition fees.”

“And what would you want in return?” John stared in disbelief. How could he be so confident, that John would say yes immediately to his offers, or rather say, demands?

“I want Sherlock to be happy. He’s happy with you and I can tell you are a far better human being than Irene Adler. Even if you don’t want to start a romantic relationship with him, you can be friends with him at Harrow.” John wanted to protest, but he waited for Mycroft to continue.

“Sherlock had a difficult time in Harrow as in his previous school. He didn’t have any friends til he met you. What I want from you is to be friends with Sherlock, make sure he doesn’t cause any troubles at school, make sure he eats and he sleeps and inform me about his recent behaviors every month.” Said Mycroft haughtily. 

“Mr. Holmes, you don’t have to pay me for being Sherlock’s friend. I already am.” 

“Do I? Ask Sherlock if he wants to study with you. You don’t have to answer me now.”

***

After John had left the room, Mycroft sighed. That night Lestrade told him everything about John and their texts, which proved Sherlock could have friends, and eventually he came up with an idea. Lestrade warned against him, saying that it would be a dangerous move. 

He seems to be rubbing his ring longer than he intended to as he lost himself in a train of thoughts.

Let’s see if John could be the making of Sherlock, or worse than ever.

Time to meet Lestrade for dinner, he reminded himself silently with a peek at the time on the clock.

***  
\-- Phone Dialing  
(Sherlock and John)

John?

-Sherlock, we need to talk.

It’s about Mycroft, isn’t it? What did he offer? Did you say y-

-No. I’m thinking about it. I think we need to talk in person.

John, is it about the money? It’s fine, we c-

-Sherlock, please, let’s meet at Saturday.

Alright.

***

Sherlock was now standing in front of a café, his hand on the handle. The weather was cold and the smell of coffee seemed appealing. 

Sherlock was hesitant. It’s not that he didn’t want to meet John, he’s dying to see him, what’s worrying him was Mycroft’s offer.

That bastard refused to tell him anything before taking Lestrade back to their apartment in London. 

His phone rang again. It was either Mycroft, or John. Anyways, he didn’t even bothered to get his phone out of his pocket as he took a deep breath and walked in.

John looked almost the same as the night they met. Sherlock noticed he had a haircut, which made him look smarter. John grinned and gave a wave when he saw Sherlock.

“Hi,” Sherlock said shyly. His cheeks felt hot. Oh god. Please tell him that he’s not blushing.

He ordered coffee, black with two sugars, John frowned slightly but said nothing about it. 

“Sherlock, Mycroft offered me to study at Harrow with you.” John said to him as a matter of fact.

Sherlock wanted to say something but the words were stuck in his throat. He winced when he realized his cup of coffee was too hot for him and he stared at the dark liquor while he was thinking.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?” He answered almost immediately. Still, his brain was analyzing every possibility of John studying with him. Anyways, he’d love it. He liked John seemed to be an understatement now. He loved John.

“Please tell me your opinions about this. Just tell me what you think at this moment. Don’t think too much.” John said calmly to him.

Sherlock looked at John and answered “Please say yes.”

***

They spent a week together, visiting each other’s places. Sherlock would say that they were now totally and irrecoverably in love with each other. They were being reckless, like John helping Sherlock to trick Mycroft and Sherlock occasionally bringing John to the crime scenes. 

Sherlock eventually discovered John’s sister and his ex-boyfriend, and decided not to care. 

At last John declined Mycroft’s offer because he simply didn’t want to owe Mycroft anything, and promised Sherlock that they’d be together, wherever they were studying at. Sherlock wasn't happy about it at first but he accepted it reluctantly when John promised him. He kissed John goodbye and said "I love you" to John. John grinned and replied him with the same words.

***

Years went by and it was a peaceful afternoon. John was typing slowly on his laptop, updating his blog about Sherlock’s cases and Sherlock playing the violin on his armchair.

Whatever worked in that bar at that miraculous night, it still worked.


End file.
